


I'm Afflicted, You're Addicted

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Abduction, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Forced Relationship, I'm Sorry, Infected Characters, Mid-Canon, Murder, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Self-Mutilation, Stockholm Syndrome, lucas is his own warning, use of slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: A trip down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras takes a horrible wrong turn, ending in Dulvey and leaving bodies in its wake.





	1. Mardi Gras

_"Goooooooooood evening, ladies and jerkoffs," Paulette's lips stretched into a wide, manic grin while she held her phone up for an ideal selfie angle. "I'm Paulette and this is my dearest, most psycho friend Myra-" She tilted the phone to try to include Myra in the shot._  
_"Man, get that fuckin' camera offa me," Myra blocked the view of her face and turned away to wander up to the house. Her avoidance of the lens got a laugh out of her friend._  
 _"Whaaaat? It's for Facebook!" Paulette followed close behind; providing an unflatting upward angled shot of her face while she swapped to the rear-facing camera on her phone. Flash on and lighting their path with Myra's phone._  
  
Goddamn, that Paulette bitch was ugly from that angle...  
Lucas snorted at the thought, fingers drumming on his knee as he fast forwarded through their walk up to the guest house, pausing only once to steal a quick look at Myra's ass from a flattering angle. It would've been better if fuckin' Paulette could hold the fuckin' god damn camera straight! When his finger came away from the screen again, they were inside of the house.  
  
_"-the story for this shithole again?" Myra asked, glancing back at the camera with a sneer. Obviously still hating that it was pointed at her. The pupils in her green eyes shrunk in an instant, and she winced against the harsh light shining straight into her face._  
 _"So this is The Baker House," Paulette said. "The whole family just up and disappeared in 2014. No trace, it's insane! Oh- and apparently right after it happened, a lot of people around Dulvey started disappearing."_  
 _Myra shook her head. "Why'd I come here with you?"_  
 _"'Cause you looooooove me!"_  
 _She didn't seem to accept her friend's bullshit answer. "You're gonna get me fucking killed."_  
  
Lucas had to give Myra credit. She was the smarter of the two. And she was the hot one.  
Fast forward, fast forward- wait, what the fuck was that? Rewind.  
  
_"-wanna go back to the car. The parties start tonight and we have miles to go. We haven't even reached Baton Rouge yet."_  
  
Must've been on the way to New Orleans. Mardi Gras was three days away. Dulvey was just a pitstop for dumb fucks looking for haunted houses. And _man_ , did they ever find what they were lookin' for.  
  
_A door slammed shut somewhere in the house, making Paulette yelp and Myra clamp a hand over her own mouth to keep from doing the same. They'd jumped in unison and the camera suddenly pointed into the hallway leading to the front door, where the silhouette of a young girl stood in front of the window._  
  
Evie. Little fuckin' nutcase. Good thing Dad, Mama, or fuckin' Mia didn't get to them first. Or Zoe, for that matter. She probably would've helped them escape. The dumb ass.  
  
 _"Oh, Jesus," Paulette sighed when she saw Eveline. The frame captured Myra slowly moving toward the little girl to speak to her. "Little girl, what are you doing here?"_  
 _"Where's your family?" Myra asked, coming within fatal range of the bio weapon._  
 _"You're my family now." The two women looked at each other in mutual fear, and when the camera angled back to the doorway, Eveline had disappeared into thin air._  
 _"Whatthefuck?" Myra hissed, looking back at the camera, Paulette asking the same._  
 _"Where'd she fucking go?" Paulette's voice had an audible tremble in it._  
 _They gasped in unison and nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. His footsteps._  
  
Lucas had been upstairs, working on fixing the mechanism for the stairs to the attic. His headphones had blocked out all the noise they'd made before. If anything, it was surprising that _they_ hadn't heard _him_.  
  
 _"We gotta to get the fuck outta here," Myra whispered, motioning to Paulette to tiptoe over to her._  
 _"Yeah," Paulette agreed, just barely audible because of the phone in her shaking hand._  
 _The two women moved slowly and carefully down the hallway, coming to the front door._  
 _Which was now blocked with an excess of black mold._  
 _"Oh shit," Paulette sounded like she was gonna start crying like a fucking baby. "Ohshitohshitohshit, what do we do now!?"_  
 _"SHH!" Myra covered her friend's mouth with her hand. "We're gonna find another door."_  
 _They froze, Myra's face visibly paling when they heard the floorboards creak in the kitchen._  
 _Paulette struggled to hold in a sob. "The fuck was that...?"_  
  
The rest was just screaming and struggling, and a bonus of the E-001 mold enveloping them both before slithering itself down their throats to infect them with Eveline's poison. Though the angle wasn't good enough to catch it all on video. But he'd been there to watch it happen. Paulette had dropped her phone in the process, and Lucas went back to collect it after he'd brought Myra to the barn. Paulette was already gone when he got back to take her too. He assumed Dad got her- or Eveline did. It was kinda fun hitting Paulette over the head, but it was too bad he had to fuck up Myra's pretty face a little bit to render her unconscious. No big deal, though.  
It'd fix itself pretty soon thanks to that shit in the green bottles they had lying around.  
Not to mention the regeneration ability, thanks to the mold.  
  
Paulette had dropped her phone in the process, and Lucas went back to collect it after he'd brought Myra to the barn. Paulette was already gone when he got back to take her too. He assumed his dad got her- or Eveline did.  
It'd been hours since he'd successfully captured Myra- and he was a little disappointed that he couldn't get Paulette. After all, he'd knocked both out at once and without any help from Dad, he was proud to say. He may have been wiry, but he was ultimately stronger when he had them backed into the corner.  
  
He watched the monitors from his control room, just after reviewing the footage on the cracked screen of Paulette's phone.  
The whole testing area was just about dead silent, aside from the occasional Molded forming out of the masses of black on the walls because a presumably uninfected rat skittered by and raised alarm.  
Myra had her own separate space for the time being. He could see her beginning to stir. The night vision on the camera made the blood over her mouth and nose look like she was missing the bottom half of her face.  
The microphone picked up a small moan she'd made in her sleep as she shifted. She kept scratching at any of her exposed skin.  
She was cute when she slept. If she survived testing, maybe he'd keep her around for more. He needed someone to beta test the Birthday room. Find the flaws.  
Lucas watched her monitor in particular. The rest didn't fuckin' matter. Eveline could have Paulette, but Myra was his now.


	2. Survival Insinct

Itchy. Why was she so fucking itchy? No matter how much she scratched, she kept itching. The lucid dreams of spiders, wasps, and centipedes on her skin were horrible. And then the sudden pinch of one biting her throat shocked her awake with a shriek of horror-- but was forced into silence when she gagged on something loose in the back of her mouth.  
She coughed and spit it out into her hands. The taste of blood had been in her mouth that whole time. Why hadn't she noticed before?  
Despite the room being pitch black, she knew by touch that she was holding several bloody teeth in her palms, as well as the silver ring she'd had in her bottom lip. Her own teeth. She remembered being hit in the face with a tool.  
A survey of her tongue searching for gaps in her mouth contradicted her theory. She still had all of her teeth. And there was no tear in her lip where the piercing was.  _What the fuck happened?_  
A familiar smell wafted into her bloody nostrils that reminded her of a farm, and a crunchy handful of hay clutched in her palm made it clear: she was in a barn.  
The hay explained the itching. And a piece must've poked her in the neck for that nightmare to end so... horribly...  
But how did she get there?   
She was in the old Baker place before.  
She slowly sat up, shaking hands feeling through the pitch black to try to make out the dimensions of the room. For all she knew, she could be inside of a barn, a basement, or (hopefully not) in a shipping crate on its way to China. She slowly stood up, hands up to feel for anything she could hit her head on. Nothing. She could stand completely upright.  
She had room to move.  
"Paulette?" She asked quietly, hoping to hear her friend nearby.  
Instead she became aware of the digital buzz of a speaker suddenly playing above her- like the volume was turned up to maximum on an idle guitar amp.  
_**"HOOOOOOO SHIT, LOOK WHO'S UP!"**_  
She shrieked and clamped her hands over her mouth when a man's voice boomed from the overhead. Her hands clapped over her ears- and just in time. She heard a microphone screech right after.  
_**"Whoop- sorry, baby! Didn't think that'd scare 'ya so bad!"**_  The volume was reduced, and she uncovered her ears and stood up again while he talked on.  ** _"Not when I got all this other good shit to work with, anyway-"_**  
" _LET ME OUT!_ " She screeched, doubting he could even hear her. She made sure to scream loud enough to wake the dead. Surely someone would come help? Where was Paulette?  
The man hooted through the speakers.  ** _"You ain't gotta yell, I can hear 'ya just fine! N' I can see 'ya too... You sure got some long ass legs on 'ya, by the way... N' those yoga pants? Real nice."_** Worse yet was the degrading, perverse dog sounds he made at her. Barking, growling, howling- like a gross, horny, middle-aged man hooting at an eighteen year old. She hoped he would choke on his tongue.  
" _Shut up!_ " She spat- sounding more afraid than angry. He could see her in the dark through his night vision cameras. Chest heaving with panicked breaths. Hands out to try to find anything that might help her get the layout of the room. Eyes wide as if it'd help her see any better through pitch black. "Where's Paulette!?"  
Ballsy for someone in a bad situation. Must've had a death wish. Or maybe she was just as stupid as her buddy.  
  
**_"Now, now, you gotta be patient,"_ ** He beamed, grinning sadistically at his screens as he zoomed cameras onto various parts of her. Lips. Legs. Ass. Tits. Crotch. All areas of interest. He absently rubbed himself through his pants. He'd have time for jerkin' off later. Right now was business. ** _"Name's Lucas, baby. N' think of this as a..."_** The idea came with a cruel giggle. ** _"Think of it as our first date. Paulette wasn't invited."_**  
He saw her freeze, lips separating and trembling along with the rest of her.  
He had taken her belongings. He'd hold on to her keys so he could take her car off of the road later. Rummaged through her wallet in the mean time. Her driver's license said her name was Myra Klein. Just turned 24 a few months ago. ** _"Gotta see if 'yer my type 'fore I start seein' other girls. Myyyyyyra."_**  
"HEY, _FUCK YOU!_ " Myra's fear shifted into a raging sense of self-preservation when he said her name. He could see the fury in her expression- and then her fingertips found a wall. Wood. Maybe this really was a barn.  
**_"My, my, Myra,"_** He laughed.  ** _"You must be some kinda city girl to wanna fuck on the first date! And, uh, as much as I'd like to oblige, Mama raised an old fashioned Southern gentleman."_**  Myra rolled her eyes in frustration while Lucas giggled like a fuckin' child at his own joke.  ** _"Oh! I tell 'ya what, though. If you can figure out the way out, I'll let 'ya go. No problem. Y'can just forget aaaaaall this ever happened."_**  
That just meant there was no way out.  _Why don't I come find you instead, asshole?_  She felt along the wall in the pitch black to find her way. If she could at least knock him out, she'd have the chance to really find a way out.  
He went silent to observe, switching back and forth between the monitor and scrolling through the pictures and videos in her phone again. She looked better with long hair. And had a nice smile. And an even nicer rack... Kinda small for his tastes, if he was being honest. Skinny girls usually didn't do it for him, but the  _BALLS_ this girl had...! His favorite video so far was one taken a few days ago. She was in the passenger seat of a car, and the camera flashed to Paulette, then to the road, then to Paulette, then back on herself. Aviator sunglasses obscuring her eyes, gray-dyed hair whipping around in the wind, lips stretched into a wide grin and black eyebrows raising to exaggerate expression while she sang along to ACDC.  
Meanwhile, Myra slowly wandered through the black halls of the testing area. Feeling along the walls the whole way for guidance. Not actually going anywhere. Hadn't reached the stairs yet. she went into a blind spot between cameras and (conveniently) stopped there.  
"C'mon, baby, keep it goin'," Lucas muttered. waiting for her green-filtered form to appear again on his screen.  
But Myra didn't reappear. Instead freezing in place and slowly, cautiously sinking down to her knees in the darkness to find what she'd kicked.  
Pieces of wood, from what she surveyed. A broken crate or pallet, maybe? She felt the shape of one. Broken on the end, just pointed enough to be able to stab through flesh if moved with enough force. She could use it as a weapon.  
He said he could see her in the darkness.  
Cameras. Night vision.  
**_"What's wrong, baby?"_** He condescended, obviously trying to urge her forward. **_"You give up already? Thought you was smarter n' that."_**  
But Lucas helped to affirm her theory. Maybe he couldn't see her right where she was. She found a blind spot. She could stay there until he got frustrated and turned on some lights or something. Unless she was wrong.  
In which case, what was going to keep him from coming down himself and turning lights on anyway?  
What was there to lose?  
  
Instead, he waited.  
And waited.   
The little cunt didn't reappear... Where the fuck did she go?   
She really didn't-- no, wait, did she fuckin' escape? Where the fuck- _HOW?_  
Fuck, man- that's what he got for not spacing out the cameras better.   
He threw her phone against his keyboard and got up with a groan.  
Night vision goggles ought'a make this speed along. He could just go in and drag her perky little ass back into the testing area by her hair if he had to. Or else Mama and the old man might get to her first and they'd make Sunday dinner outta her. Then he'd have to wait for another hot college girl to wander into Dulvey- and fuck that noise!  
  
Myra clung to the wall between cameras, terrified to give Lucas a hint at where she was. A single trace of even her shoelace in view of a camera would tip him off. She even tried to keep herself quiet so his microphones wouldn't pick up her panicked breaths. He was probably still listening.  
Her hands wrapped so tightly around the sharp piece of wood that she could feel splinters stabbing into her palms. Any fucking minute something could happen.   
  
The sound of a door creaking open then slamming shut told her that she was no longer alone.   
Lucas.  
Hand behind her back (could he even see in the dark?), she clung to the wall, moving away from the noise. Ears straining to pick up on any sound at all- and pulse pounding when she heard a few scuffles of shoes against the floor.  
She gripped the wooden stake so hard that her hand shook.  
  
There she was.  
She found the  _one_ blind spot he kept forgetting to fix. To her credit, she was the first of, like, twenty people to actually do that. She really was the smart one.  
Something about a girl with brains and an ass that nice got him going.  
  
"Hey _Myyyyyyyyra_ ," he sang, grinning widely like a dog baring its teeth for the kill as she stared with fear into the darkness. Breathing hard and struggling to keep herself quiet by clamping a hand over her pretty lips.  
Her other hand was behind her back. Bracing against the wall for direction?  
He'd just have to fix that! If he could move her away from the wall, she'd be lost again. And in the pitch black, she'd never be able to find that exact spot again.  
His tongue glided over his teeth with sick anticipation, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and jerking her away from the wall and making her let out a frightened yelp. The hand that was previously on her lips tightly grabbed his arm before he could pull it back, and stabbed him square in the chest with a piece of wood with the other hand with a primal scream of pure survival insinct.  
Well... Shit...  
He was genuinely impressed. Fuck flight, she was all _fight!_  
And his dick was hard as a rock- at least until his blood started flowing out of his chest when she pulled away, taking the stake with it. Still hurt, even with regeneration.  
He coughed out some blood, spitting it onto the ground and letting out a manic laugh as he began to heal. He pulled back his fist and hit her hard in the mouth for the second time that day- and she collapsed like a ton of bricks. Out cold. "God _damn_ , baby," he giggled, picking up the unconscious woman and slinging her over his shoulder. He gave her an affectionate pat on the ass, hand lingering to feel the outline of her underwear. "I knew you were a wild one but I didn' think ya'd be _wife_ material! Imma keep you 'round for a fuckin' while!"


	3. Southern Hospitality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long because I haven't played it in a long time lmao

Myra's head ached horribly when she woke again. This time, she wasn't in the dark.  
It was daylight, and the sun shone in through a dirty window. Dust particles littered the rays of light in between splotches of filthy glass. Hours had passed.  
... _But w_ _here the **fuck** was she?  
_ A dirty old room, sprawled out on a dirty old mattress without sheets or a pillow.  
"Paulette?" She called. "... Lucas?... No, he's..." _Dead?_ "I- I stabbed him, didn't I...?" She looked at her hand and found dried blood under her fingernails and splinters in her palm, which she began to pick out with her fingernails. That all did happen. Unless-  
She felt all over her own body- no wounds. It wasn't her own blood, so...  
But his body wasn't nearby. There was a trail of blood on the floor, though.  
Starting at the door across the room, stopping at the bed, and circling back to the exit.  
Across the room was a metal door with a steel grated window. And a keypad just beside it.  
She was locked in this room, surrounded with nothing but wooden walls, a shitty mattress that looked like it had piss stains and mold all over it-- and a bathtub against one of the walls with rusty exposed pipes connected to a slowly dripping shower head.  
She stood up to move closer to the door and try to see out.  
Suddenly a face appeared in the window, making Myra jump back with a yelp.  
"Mornin', Baby," she knew this was Lucas by the sound of his voice.  
Ugly. Gangly. With the most unfortunate combination of a big nose and shitty hairline she'd ever seen on a man who didn't have the wrinkles to match. Pale as a corpse; and his eerie, ice-blue eyes were sunken in like a drug addict's. She came up closer to the window, ready to rush the door if he came in, or block it. She wasn't sure if she could keep him out.   
But he could definitely keep her in.  
"I stabbed you..."  
"Sure did, Baby. Yer gonna wanna step back so I can come in."  
"No."  
"C'mon, _Myyyyyyyyra_ ," he sang her name in a way that sickened her to the core. "If you don't move back, I'll have to use _this_ on 'ya when I _do_ get in." He raised a cattle prod into view. But it was modified. To be stronger, she assumed. "It won't _kill_ 'ya, but it'll make 'ya wish it could."  
Myra would comply. For now. If she could bide her time until he made a mistake...  
Stepping back from the door, she allowed Lucas a little bit of room to enter.  
If he wanted to kill her, he'd have done it already.  
Clearly he had _other_ plans.  
But if his dick came anywhere near her, she'd castrate him with her bare hands. No hesitation.  
"Lookit you," he eyed her up and down the moment the door fell shut behind him. Now that he had decent lighting to see her in detail. "Ain't you just somethin' special... Always kinda had a thing for goth chicks. You got any tattoos?"  
"What do you want?" She asked. "Where's Paulette?"  
"Don't worry 'bout Paulette. You'll see her again pretty soon. Maybe. I dunno. Y'all are both part of the family now, so..."  
"What do you mean 'part of the family'?"  
"Long story, Baby," he motioned toward the bathtub on the opposite side of the room. "Go on."  
"'Go on', what?"  
"To the tub, dumb ass!" He groaned, aggressively motioning again to the tub and tapping the cattle prod against the side of his leg- as if to remind her that he had it. " _Go._ "  
She didn't turn her back to him as she moved across the room to the bathtub.  
She didn't stop until the backs of her legs bumped into the side of the tub. "Now what?"  
"Take it all off, get in," he used the cattle prod to motion to her clothes. "Simple 'nuff, right? All the fun last night got 'ya smellin' like a fuckin' armpit."  
"I'm not taking my clothes off."  
"Look, Myra, Baby, sweetheart, apple of my _fuckin'_ eye- either _you_ can take 'em off, or I can do it for 'ya." He licked his lips like a hungry animal. "Your choice."  
Myra hesitated, eyes darting to the door, wondering if she could outrun him to it. But, the keypad-  
Lucas sighed and took a step toward her, assuming she'd rather do things the hard way- but she got the message.  
She stared at him, unblinking with a hateful look as she lifted her foot one at a time to untie her shoes and kick them off. Lucas watched, transfixed, as she shed her outer layers of clothing.  
Abandoning her shirt revealed a tattoo across her upper chest. " _I CHOOSE TO LIVE FREE_ ".  
Ironic.  
"Y'know, I always thought girls that didn't match bras n' panties were just lazy," he chuckled. The sharp contrast between her black bra and lacy, neon green underwear just made it hard to decide where he wanted to look. "Looks pretty good, though..."  
Myra chose to bite her tongue. He was skinny, but apparently he could hit pretty fucking hard to knock her out. Twice now. "C'mon, all of it."  
_You'll be fine,_ she told herself. _You'll be fine, you'll be fine._ Even if it wasn't true, the affirmation helped her not to panic as she unhooked her bra behind her back and slipped off the straps to let it drop to the floor. Hesitating again to ditch her panties.  
Lucas raised his eyebrows. A silent "Hurry up, I wanna see you naked".  
To which Myra responded with a hateful stare as she unceremoniously shoved her underwear down her legs and turning her body away from him to salvage her dignity.  
He seemed so keen on taking that away from her.  
Shamelessly leering at the naked woman in front of him, Lucas licked his lips again. "Get in and turn the water on. Clean yourself up."  
Myra's eyes only left him for half a second to step over the edge of the tub. She turned on the water and directed it to the shower head. It came out freezing cold, and she gasped when it hit her like a bucket of ice water. She simply allowed the water to rinse over her. Nothing more. She wouldn't put on a show for him.  
"Ain't got any special girly soap for 'ya. Might make a run for some if 'yer gonna stay this friendly..." He bent down to pick up her discarded clothes and draped them each over his arm.  
"What are you doing!?" Myra gave him a panicked look, moving to leave the tub to stop him.  
But Lucas held the end of the cattle prod near the stream of water. "Uh- uh, Baby. This is gonna hurt a lot more than if I just put it straight on 'ya."  
"What are you doing with my clothes?" She demanded, rubbing her arms to try to stop the shivering.  
"Don't worry, you'll get 'em back," He shrugged, turning his back on her and heading for the door. "Unless I forget."  
  
The passage of time was unmarked by anything other than the drying of Myra's hair.  
The shivers stopped after a while. It was February- and even Louisiana didn't stay above the mid-sixties in the winter.  
Even with the weather that would be decent anywhere else, she still had goosebumps. Any kind of clothing or covering would do the trick. No blankets or sheets on the mattress. No curtain on the window. Nothing.  
Worse yet, there was nothing to pass the time except to wait for Lucas to come back, hopefully with clothes.  
Eventually she resolved to leave the mattress and look around the room. Splintery wood. No clear weak spots in the walls where she could break her way through. Cameras in the corners of the ceiling. Lucas was no doubt watching her.  
Fucker.  
"You're not gonna forget my clothes, are you?" The morbid joke even disgusted herself. What kind of dumb ass jokes in a moment like this?  
Where the fuck was Paulette?  
  
The question came up in conversation between them once or twice after a horror marathon: _Is it scarier to be obviously enslaved by a captor by being tied down; or to be made comfortable by your captor, and have the illusion of being able to choose freedom?  
_Turns out they're worst when combined.  
Paulette's entire body trembled and her hushed, rapid breaths were borne from the anxiety of waking up in a place that was different than where you fell asleep.  
Someone put her in the chair while she was unconscious. And left her there. For hours and hours, until she could see evidence of daylight breaking in through a window in the next room.  
Her wrists were taped down tightly to the arms of the chair.  
"G'mornin', sleepyhead," a woman's voice trembled with what sounded like suppressed giggling.  
Paulette's eyes immediately traced the sound to the kitchen, separated from the dining room by a row of counter top. A haggard older woman in dirty clothes hummed a song while she stood in front of the stove. She'd only taken a glance back at Paulette when she knew she'd awoken.  
Her skin was gray and sickly, and her ponytail as messy and matted with obvious neglect for personal care. Who the fuck was this lady? "You sleep good? Hope you got an appetite."  
"W-Who are you?" Paulette rasped. "Where's Myra?"  
The woman ignored her question, only coming closer with a plate of unidentifiable food. "I made you somethin' special." Paulette would've screamed if she didn't think it'd get her killed. The filthy plate that was set in front of her was nothing but intestines. Cooked, human-sized intestines with pepper and coarse salt sprinkled on top. She felt like she was going to vomit. The smell alone was too much. The woman, however, took a deep sniff of the inedible abomination and let it out with a contented sigh. "Now don't that just smell wonderful?" She picked up a dirty knife and fork that were already at the table and cut off a piece of "food" to feed to her guest. "Eat up, darlin'. It's gonna be a good day."  
Paulette gagged when the smell came closer to her nose and vomited down the front of her own shirt.  With her empty stomach, it was only bile. The pain of dry heaving had tears streaming down her eyes in an instant from the horrible acidic burn in her esophagus.  
"Oh, mother _fucker!_ " The woman screeched, abandoning the persona of a gracious hostess and backing away from the mess her guest had made. " _JACK!_ " She called out, frantic. " _THIS UNGRATEFUL BITCH PUKED ALL OVER MY GODDAMN FLOOR!_ " She stomped away, back into the kitchen all while muttering about how she absolutely couldn't **_believe_ ** how fucking rude it was to throw up the breakfast someone so kindly made just for you from scratch.  
Heavy footsteps strode down the creaky floor out in the hallway until the double doors to the dining room slammed open, "Always screamin' in my _goddamn_ ear!" A large, burly older man in equally dirty clothes and equally sickly-looking skin. "Just shut the hell up, Marguerite!"  
"I made this little _cunt_ a full meal and she puked all over her fuckin' self!" The woman, Marguerite, said with the same venomous rage in her tone, violently pointing a finger in Paulette's direction. "If our little girl didn't want her so bad, I'd fuckin'-"  
"I know what'll fix her, Marguerite." The man, Jack, shoved the entire plate of food against Paulette's face, muffling her sobs with freshly cooked gore.  
The taste would haunt her for the rest of her life.  
"Hey, Ma," a new voice entered the room, but Paulette was unable to see the source past the plate still being shoved into her nose so hard that it could break her nose. She was suffocating in viscera. "Do we still got any of Zoe's bathroom shit lyin' around?"  
  
"Hey! _HEY!_ " Myra shouted at the camera, unaware that Lucas hadn't been watching the entire time. He'd only just gotten back to the control room. And boy, it sure was fuckin' great to come back to live video of a naked woman vying for his attention. Like one of those cam girls- but less sexually charged. "Are you going to kill me or just keep fucking staring!?"  
He snickered and pressed the button for the PA system. **_"Goddamn, you're clingy,"_** he said. ** _"I was just goin' to get you a little somethin'. But with an attitude like that, I don't think 'ya want it very bad."_  
** "Fuck you and fuck whatever you have if it ain't my clothes! Just do _something_ already! What are you waiting for!?" The anticipation was killing her. Any kind of hint at his intent would at least help her strategize a way out. But what the fuck did he even want? To kill her? To fuck her?  
An answer never came. Instead she heard the sound system being turned off.  
She'd just have to keep waiting...  
Fine.  
But the moment he thought she was helpless and got complacent, she'd make her escape.  
She sat on the mattress, careful to avoid sitting on any stains, and curled up. Cold. Afraid.  
"-even  _believe_ girls sometimes," the sound of Lucas's muttering came closer to the door minutes later. "Unfuckin'grateful to a guy doin' 'em a favor."  
She jumped to her feet when she saw him appear at the door and type in the passcode. He didn't walk in, but threw a plastic shopping bag into the room. "Well?" He seemed to expect instant gratitude despite her apprehension to even go near the bag. "Can't keep bitchin' about bein' naked if I give 'yer clothes back."  
Oh shit-  
She darted over to the bag and tore it open to find her clothes inside. Cleaned of dirt, blood, and hay, but still damp and wrinkly. And it all reeked of mildew and swamp water in addition to the soap.  
And if it weren't enough to give her back her clothes, there were bottles of soap, shampoo, and conditioner in the bag. All with effeminate scents. "Girly soap", as he'd called it earlier.  
But it was good enough, and she more than happily got dressed on the spot- ignoring that Lucas was watching from the door.  
"You fuckin' happy now?" He asked pointedly, watching her feverishly work to cover herself.  
The welcoming feeling of cotton on her legs and torso were a comfort. It felt like wearing armor. "What do you even want from me?"  
"Don't worry 'yer pretty lil' head about that. Not much gonna be goin' on for a while, so uh... Get comfortable."


	4. Baby

The cell door was impossible to open alone- even if it was rickety as shit.  
Paulette wanted to pace the floor to get out some of the anxiety induced jitters; but she knew she had to conserve every bit of energy she had left if there was any hope for escape. Several days of starvation later, her broken nose had healed back into place. Remarkable. Inexplicable. The Family must have done something to her.  
But even though she was still in one piece, Paulette was weary from hunger. Refusal of the ‘meal’ Marguerite had made for her had gotten her locked in the cell.  
Fuck.  
She didn't even know exactly how much time had gone by. Several days, she assumed. Judging by how often her stomach hurt from not eating and how many times she'd slept… Her leg hair growing back.  
She wanted to sleep now. But her nerves simply wouldn't let her.  
Not with where she was…  
The scuff of a shoe on the ground made her jump to attention, moving as far away from the cell door as possible as someone approached.  
But through the bars she didn't see Jack or Marguerite- but a young woman close to her own age. Pale, but not sickly looking like the others. She had short black hair and piercing blue eyes.  
“I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner” she said, taking a small black backpack off of her shoulder and pushing it through the bars of the cell. “I brought you some food.”  
Paulette refused to move from her spot- but was more than tempted to look inside the bag. The fact that the other woman made no effort to let her out and only offered ‘food’ made her wonder if the bag was full of human organs.  
“Swear to God, its actual food,” she insisted.  
Paulette couldn't hide her desperation anymore- leaving her corner and tearing open the backpack to find a jar of peanut butter, some stale bread, a bruised banana, and a bottle of water. The sight made her cry, hands shaking as she ate the bread on its own. “Th-thank you…!” She sobbed out, mouth full.  
The other woman outside the cell managed a thin smile. “It's all right, darlin’. I'm gonna try to get you outta here… Name's Zoe.”  
  
The inside of the (finally lit) barn had cameras all over the walls that captured every possible angle. Myra had counted twenty so far- since the door of her room had opened on it's own.  
At first she thought Lucas was testing to see if she would try to escape- assuming she would walk right into a trap. But instead there were arrows spray painted on the floor that directed her where to go- and she had little choice but to follow.

At first she thought to disobey and go off in another direction to try to find a way out- but that notion ended quickly. The same black mold she had seen several days ago was costing random walls and corners of the barn. What she could see now was that it _moved_.  
She decided the arrows might be a better option- the mold probably carcinogenic as _fuck_.  
Myra was surprised that she hadn’t come across anything _too_ bad yet, even if the mold was _everywhere._ Big splotches of it scattered on the walls and floor around her as she passed by---  
She froze when she turned a corner and nearly walked into a shin-height tripwire. Connected to some box on the wall with a blinking red light… An IED.  
“Huh,” she muttered, smirking to herself as she stepped over the wire. “Nice try, asshole.”  
The question here was: did he expect her to be running from something? So she would be sloppy and run right into his traps?  
He didn't count on her being careful...  
The sound of a heavy, gurgling gasp of air from behind her stopped her in her tracks. Accompanied by a slimy, sludgy, dripping sound.  
Myra spun, jaw dropping when she saw a humanoid shape forming out of a mass of black mold on the wall she’d just been next to.  
“Jesus fucking-” she couldn’t take her eyes off of the creature as it slowly lumbered toward her. Its head came near the ceiling- it had to be seven feet tall, black as coal and sinewy in build. Teeth and claws like knives. It didn’t even appear to have eyes, but she could sense that it was looking straight at her. As she backed away, she saw it hold its arm out to the side- claws at the ready to swing at her.  
And then Myra saw it come close to the trip wire.  
She took a few wide steps back just before it walked right into the wire- the IED on the wall went off with a small, controlled explosion-- and the creature quite literally fell to pieces.  
Huh… Not very smart, was he?  
**_“NICE GOIN’, BABY,”_** Lucas’ voice over the intercom made her clamp her hands over her ears. **_“I knew you were smart but damn, you learn real fuckin’ quick._** ** _And_** ** _you didn’t panic. You just might keep things interesting ‘round here.”_** **  
**“What the _fuck_ do you have me doing!?” She shouted back, unable to take her eyes off of what was left of the mold monster.  
**_“Relax,”_** Lucas replied dismissively. **_“It’s just a little bit of testin’. You should be used to it by now, Myyyyyyyyyyyra.”  
_** She was going to fucking stab him if he said her name like that one more time.  
**_“But don’t worry, there ain’t much more left,”_** Lucas teased, eyeing her though his monitors. Excited to see her very soon. Several more molded began to form out of the masses on the walls, and he could see the fear in Myra’s expression. **_“I mean, after all of them, anyway. ‘Ya might wanna get movin’, Baby.”_**  
Myra broke into a run immediately. Lucas hadn’t bothered giving her a way to fight the molded off- just watching her dart through them even in the narrow hallways of his testing area was entertainment enough, so he didn’t provide anything to use as a weapon. Plus as soon as she (hopefully) got through, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for being stabbed again as soon as they’d meet.  
She must’ve been in track or something in high school, ‘cause she could duck and weave through molded and jump trip wires with the best of ‘em. He was actually rooting for her to get through… But if she did, he’d just have to redesign the whole fuckin’ place.  
  
“I don’t feel good,” Paulette muttered, unwilling to part with the bag of food yet. Who knew when the next time she’d get to eat would be?  
“You’re infected,” Zoe replied. “I can see it on your hands. The black under your fingernails.”  
Paulette raised her fingers, hands shaking, looking under her nails to examine them. “It’s _dirt_.”  
“It’s mold,” Zoe corrected, head shaking. “Some of my mama’s cookin’ must’ve gotten in your mouth. Eatin’ it just speeds up the process. It rots ‘ya from the inside out, I’ve seen it happen.”  
“Is there something I can do to fix it?”  
“Yeah,” Zoe nodded. “But I'm gonna have to figure out how to get you outta _here_ first.” She rattled the door of the cell. They didn't bring people down to these cells very often- so chains weren't the strongest, but she couldn't possibly break them on her own. “Okay,” she began, standing upright from where she'd crouched near the bars. “I'm gonna need you to push the door as hard as you can. I'm gonna pull, but we gotta do it at the same time. Can you do it?”  
“I'll try,” Paulette agreed, abandoning the backpack to stand up again.  
Zoe stood on the other side, one foot up against the wall to put her weight into pulling, and Paulette counted “Three. Two. One!” and threw herself at the door.

“What's with this watch?”  
“That's a Codex,” Zoe said. “Don't lose it, okay?”  
Paulette watched the green cardiograph line on the screen and noticed that it had synchronized with her pulse. A health monitor, she assumed. “Where'd you get this?”  
“Came with one of our other guests,” Zoe replied, lighting up a cigarette. The inside of the trailer had been bathed in the smell of smoke for almost three years now. Lit up with Christmas lights and had barely any protection from her family. Eveline barely had interest in it with how many other strangers wandered onto the property. Zoe had been put on the back burner. Left to her own devices.  
Paulette sighed and leaned against the trailer's refrigerator, arms crossing. “I came with my friend Myra. Short, gray dyed hair. Have you seen her?”  
Zoe shook her head. “No, nobody like that. You're the first in a few weeks. My daddy's sure to be lookin’ for you soon. He's gonna be comin’ ‘round here to look first… I hate to say it, but your friend's probably dead.”  
  
Myra crashed through the door and slammed it shut behind her- three of the mold creatures had been behind her.  
And yet, as soon as she was out of their sight… they gave up the chase. They didn't even _attempt_ to break down the flimsy door or even claw at it… Not very bright, were they…?  
Myra stepped back from the door, taking in her surroundings. She was inside of a barn. High ceilings, and the lingering stench of manure in the air.  
**_“You're doin’ real good,”_** Lucas praised, watching her keep moving through the barn. She went up the set of stairs and darted for the elevator once she locked eyes on it. **_“Come on, you didn't think it'd be_** ** _that_** ** _easy, didja? You gotta find another way, Baby.”  
_** Myra saw a control panel on the lower level of the barn- but there weren't stairs going down. A trap. Obviously. But what other choice was there but to go down?  
She carefully lowered herself from the second level- falling flat on her ass onto the concrete floor as soon as she dropped. “Ow- fucker!” She hissed, rolling onto her knees and rubbing the sore spot on her rear as she stood up.  
Lucas got a kick out of that, laughing to himself as he watched it happen.  
Myra saw that the fourth battery for the control panel was on the floor beside it. So she plugged it in and moved away with a sharp gasp when it arced.  
She turned toward the elevator when she heard it whirring to life- moving to her level. She figured there might have been a trap inside, so she maintained distance until the door was opened. But nothing was inside.  
**_“‘Ya caught me on a bad day, Baby,”_** he said. **_“I was gonna have somethin’ in there for ‘ya but this was a little short notice. But don't worry, I'll make it up to ‘ya later!”  
_** Asshole.  
Myra sighed, at least a little relieved for the time that there weren't more of those monsters. Maybe he was going to have one waiting for her. At least she knew what to expect now.  
  
The elevator brought her up one level and opened in the back. An empty, narrow hallway that led to a door was the only thing before her. And what choice did she have but to enter?  
Inside was a small room with a table, some chairs, a book shelf… A small lounge.  
Looking around the room, there didn’t seem to be any traps… Myra came to the book shelf and looked over the titles. Two copies of Creator’s Rites. Several home improvement books- for fucking what? Books on taxidermy and warfare…  
Seemed more his speed-  
A creak behind her made her jump, and she saw Lucas in the small loft area of the room. A staircase lifting behind him and effectively trapping her in the room with him.  
“‘Sup?” The casual question did nothing to put her at ease. At least now she couldn't see the cattle prod with him… “You gonna say somethin’ or do I gotta put you through the maze again?”  
“What do you want from me?” Myra's default question came.  
As he'd expected.

Lucas dragged a hand over his face, seeming tired. “Why don't ‘ya come sit over here n’ we can get to know each other a lil’ better?”  
“No.”  
He was beginning to think Paulette might've been the easier option between the two. “I can just _make you_ …”  
Idle or not, the threat was enough. So Myra cautiously came over to where he was, and sat in a chair at the table on the left- glowering at him all the while.  
He sat down in front of her in another chair, blocking her from the retractable staircase. And he examined her, satisfied that someone this aggressive had the spine to back herself up in this kind of situation.  
Myra shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, wondering just what he was looking for. Probably trying to remember how she looked without clothes. “ _What?_ ”  
“Just lookin’, Baby,” Lucas replied. "Y'know... 'Yer the first one I ever ended testin' early for," he chuckled, hand over the recently stitched hole in his hoodie. "First one to ever _stab_ me, that's for fuckin' sure." He reached into his pocket and produced a honey bun- still sealed in its packaging. The crinkling of the wrapper when he dropped it on the table made Myra salivate. She hadn't eaten much since he took her. Only tiny bits and pieces of what he had offered before.  
“Well go on then,” he said. “I'll eat the fuckin’ thing if you won't.”  
Myra didn't even care if it was going to poison her. Her stomach was fucking killing her. She tore open the wrapper and took large bites of the blessed junk food. Lucas observed with mild interest. Girl had an appetite. Good. Then she wouldn't let herself waste away and end the fun early.  
When Myra had swallowed the last mouthful, she reflexively thought to thank him. “Not to sound _ungrateful_ , but why’d you end it early?”  
Lucas shrugged. Not wanting to admit some frustration that she seemed to come out unscathed from all he’d done to her so far. And… Because he thought maybe, just _maybe_ , if he showed her some mercy, she might start to sway in his direction. Stockholm Syndrome? Sure, why not? Whatever got it so she might let him bend her over his control panel and-  
"How many people have you 'tested'?"  
"Lots.”  
“Who? Anybody who wanders onto your property?”  
“Yup. Guys. Girls. Kids. Didn't matter. Anybody I could get." Anybody he could get before his family did, anyway.  
"You're fucking disgusting."  
"That hurts my feelings, Baby."  
"Stop calling me that!" She snapped, slamming her hand on the table. Lucas didn't so much as flinch.  
“I just call 'ya that so I keep track of which one you are, _Baby,_ " he chuckled. "The one before 'ya was Honey. She didn't do too good. N' Cutiepie, Sugar, Princess, Angelface, n' Darlin' didn't make it too far either. You're the first to live this long."


End file.
